vincent
Vince wasn’t one to be comforted. It wasn’t in his nature. At least… It hadn’t been. Faux modesty to get somebody interested, to believe him. False weakness to make somebody believe he’d let his guard down. Let his walls fall down. So easy to lure a target in when they felt they were superior and better. Ego so easy to manipulate, even when he knew it could be his own shortcoming one day. But being at camp, being here. It had thrown him more than he cared to admit. And then it was ruthless. Memories, thoughts he stifled, time and again.
A mother’s grief, a friend nearly taken in front of his eyes by a vampire, then Kruna. Grief, more grief, piling weight on top of a mind already thinking of his own real weakness. A true connection. It got… Too much. And Julian knew, at least to a degree, some of it. Seeking solace in him. Weakness.
But the fingers curling through his hair, the brush of lips against skin. And words. Words he’d never really believed. He had himself. For so many years, he’d had himself, and that was good enough. More than good enough. Perfect for him. Standing on his own and striding forward. Using people, but never relying on them. But…
Maybe he could start leaning on some of the guys here.“Seem like a pretty safe set of hands to have me.”
His hand stand at the center of Vincent’s chest, warm palm above his heart. It beat, drummed in Vincent’s chest to music of its own making. A rhythm only Vincent could possess, a sound only his heart could make. Julian’s other continued to gently comb through the dark umber curls, ones that hugged and lifted away from Vincent’s ears or the very same that crowned his forehead in dark waves.
Julian’s cheek brushed against the side of Vincent’s neck so stubble and flesh were one and the same, with Vince seated beside him in Voithos, on Julian’s bed as the dark sea surrounded his dorm. A school of fish swam in the moonlight, but other than that, they were alone. Truly, truly, alone. Concern became paramount from their recent attack on camp, with he and Vincent in the same team, Julian knew he needed to keep all of them in shape. But seeing Yves on the brink of death--it brought him back to the hospital’s er.
Never a dull moment.
The Chicago native smiled against Vincent’s cheek, pressing another light kiss to the man’s jaw. A breath, then a gentle hum for Vincent’s ears, “Seems like a pretty capable man to let me. You did good out there.”
when the whistle had blown, when they had all rushed forward into the fray of things, there had been one person with gideon the entire time. a silent companion as they trekked across the muddied ground of the dried river. he finds himself in front of a familiar door, one he leaned upon with their first meeting, and raps his knuckles against it a few times.
“vince, it’s gideon.” he says, a smile on his face and apparent in his voice. he folds his arms over his chest, waiting to see if the son of death would open the door for him.
once arriving in UNDERTOWN, the group starts to set up camp. there's no sun to tell the time, but your inner clock pushes you towards sleep. you lay down, feeling something strange inside your chest. a pressure you can only point towards as the strength the ambrosia ignited within you. you feel it growing, multiplying, attuning you closer to your own senses and the power residing in you.
if you ever doubted the power within you, now more than ever, you feel it.
you 'awake,' but you're alone...not in the tent you drifted off in, or perhaps you are. blinking, the area around you seems familiar to you. describe this place you've awoken in. what does it look like, sound like, smell like?
After winding down for the night with Vincent beside him, Julian fell asleep to the burning oil drums and smell of ash and soot falling from the 'sky'. The feeling, however, grows and proliferates in his heart until he wakes. It is different. Where his lover was sleeping is empty space. He isn't in the underworld anymore, nor undertown for that matter.
Instead? He is in Norway. The meadows surround him and he stands in front of a patch of bluebells, under one of the many spruce trees. Sunlight flits through the overarching leaves and branches, while the cool breeze wafts down the mountain side. Birds chirp and deer roam the forests. It smells fresh; like the cusp of spring and summer, where grass is vibrant and lush while sun ever-loving.
the sunlight dapples onto this familiar meadow stretching out before you. the gentle breeze - refreshing like spring water on your skin - tussles your hair and makes the bluebells sway. a few stray strands of grass dance into the sky, distracting you for a second. the light reacts oddly behind where your eyes have focused on the blades of greenery drifting away, and your eyes drift towards it.
a figure is stepping towards you, slowly, through the knee-high flowers, blocking the light here and there. as it approaches you - what do es they - or it - look like? describe the figure that approaches you, and how that makes you feel.
Julian's eyes drift to the swaying bluebells and the wedding ring since buried under it. The warm breeze, however revitalizing and refreshing, catches his attention from the past. He takes in a breath and blues drift to a figure. It approaches and sifts through the grass and flowers, becoming one with reality rather than the shadows. Julian furrows his brow and squints, trying to gauge what it is.
Only when it nears, illuminated by the sun's golden rays and the vibrant flower petals refracting its color, does he recognize them. Her. His heart clenches and his mind blanks. Julian takes in a slow breath. This isn't a wraith. This isn't real; it's a dream. It's a dream.
"Rachel." It's his belated that wanders over, tan skin and brown hair that shines auburn in the sun. Her hazel eyes look more or less like moss as they dance above freckled cheeks. Julian's heart aches for the sight, but he's already grieved her. Instead, he feels homesick and nostalgic. Love, too, for what ended too soon. "What--What are you doing here?"
auburn hair cascades around her face, catching the sunlight like you remember it always did in the morning light dappling through your bedroom drapes. a smile that always caught your breath, and she stops in the middle of the field of flowers, directly over the area you buried the ring. she looks impeccably like rachel, standing before you, clothed in light.
her mouth moves to speak, but the sound is incoherent. it's like tinkling sunlight made manifest, the sound of the breeze catching in your ear at just the right time to snatch her words away. you try harder to hear her - maybe even approach closer.
what does she sound like? she is rachel, in body at least, but does she sound like you remember? or is it another voice? male, female, animalistic, melodic? describe how it makes you feel, and if it's familiar to you at all.
Julian's hands tremble but his breaths soon return to him. He swallows and, as her likeness nears, he starts to ease. It's as relaxed as he can get when his dead fiancée is trying to speak to him. The words are initially lost on him. It isn't the surrounding forests's fault nor the wind's strong gusts. He steps closer to understand her.
Layers of varying voices and cadences--masculine, feminine, animalistic and primitive--settle to one tone. One by one do the voices depart for the stronger to remain. In the end, it's a rich, sweet voice reminiscent of sweltering summers in the Kentucky blue grass. The voice is the same one he's associated with long summer nights, stargazing atop a car, and sunday morning hymns at church.
He can't seem to place the voice beyond it being Rachel's own, but hearing it soothes his heart. It washes over him and envelops the smattering of gunshot, stabbing, and biting scars he's since received from his job and the accident that claimed his aunt. Hearing her heals him in ways he imagined only the afterlife would.
"i've come to help you, julian," her voice rings out again, as if she knew by just glancing at you that her words had been missed before. and you realize the voice is both on the wind and in your mind. it's everywhere, coursing around; existing as both separate and apart of you.
"you've done so well so far," she encourages you, smiling. it's like her words are stitching your soul back together.
"but i fear it is only just beginning. do you think you're ready?"
It isn't a dream. It's something more.
Closure, cathartic. A final end like the one he's buried under the bluebells. It's almost as though the ring and what love went into it proliferated the flowers. They've certainly grown and spread in this...dream. Julian's gaze softens to Mediterranean blues and his lips part for something. Words? He's lost them right now.
He feels her sweet words and praise bring him back together. The gunshot scar on his side feels warm and forgiving, mending, much like the stabs to his arms and gut. The bite on his forearm and the jagged scars on his back, too, seem to lighten and mend with her voice. What was once broken in now whole.
He catches her question and raises a brow. Julian gives a soft laugh that rolls off the lip like the start of a summer's breeze, "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. There's no guidebook to follow beyond what we learn in the moment; it's practice and survive, out there. I'm here because of those around me, the family I've found and protect. I'm here because of you, Rachel." The last words, and name, come from the soul.
"But you are not Rachel, not quite."
her smile illuminates the field around you once more. her own laughter like airy wind chimes echo around you and mingles with your own. she nods, slowly, hand brushing against the nearest set of petals lovingly, tenderly, expertly.
"as astute as ever, julian," she agrees, eyes of molten honey turning back towards julian. "i'm an echo of your power, of your father's power. your soul has given me this form."
she sighs, contentedly, breathing in the aromas around her, but her eyes harden. her features set in a determined glint, "adapting to overcome is a fair methodology, but where have you found the strength for such feats?"
If only she were real.
But she isn't, not his fiancée. The 'she' is power manifested into a memory. It's much like angels from scripture, ones that take on many faces but retain their powers and epithets and more. Even the gods, from what he knows, do the same. Different faces, different pasts, all the same being on the inside.
He watches her warm gaze shift and sharpen to a dangerous degree. Julian's heart doesn't skip a beat, but his breath does escape him. Lungs stumble to find their place and the passing wind brings him back. Julian reaches down, adjusting the wicker basket of herbs and flowers, before he runs a finger along a bluebell. It's soft and a little resistant to the touch, but sunlight lends it to yield.
"It is," he agrees in a gentle cadence. Spanish accent is his to claim, yet it's from his mother's side rather than his birthplace. Smooth and easy on the voice, it continues to seep and bleed into his words, "I've found strength in my life and the people I've met. It's been with me a doctor and surgeon, but also as an uncle and lover. Father-figure, too, in some instances. As much as I love to have a plan, life doesn't work like that."
she listens, intently; hazel eyes watching every twitch of your lips, every beat of your heart against your neck, every fraction of movement in your eyes. her determination never wavers; instead, she seems gradually more impressed by your stalwart stance and clear understanding of the chaotic nature life conceals under its beauty.
"the people you've met," she echos your words, turning them over on her lips easily, "you've found a place where you prop others up. you're a foundation, are you not? do you trust them to return the favor?"
He's support, an ally. Julian isn't meant to be the hero in the traditional sense. He's the foil for many, the archetype to compliment the unyielding and courageous. While only thirty-five, he's old enough to acknowledge not everyone can be 'the main character' in their position. Such mindsets compromised the group. He is the rising star in his own life but for different reasons: putting others before him, ensuring the well being and lives of those he sees, and likewise providing a presence or friendship for many more.
Julian Dorado is many things. A foundation for others is one such thing, while family another.
Her words are returned with a little smile and a tender weight to his gaze. He remembers his promise to Dane, to Vincent, and Greyson and the others. Julian recalls his assurances to be there for them and keep them alive. He's promised it countless times and even pulled through when Yves almost died. Julian wants to ensure his family's safety--he has the power; he has to keep them alive.
No; he wants to.
"I am a foundation. I am the person that keeps us up and keeps us going. I may not be the one on the frontlines, but I like to say I'm the one that reminds them of the good cause. What we're fighting for." He looks to her and his smile settles, "I do; they are my family. They have taken blows for me, risked their lives, too." Hudson risked his own against the Rhino, one that even Julian almost died from.
"They trust me with their lives; I trust them with mine, too."
she listens just as intently before, but as she listens, her hand waves over the flowers below her. the petals twist and turn, pulling themselves into the likeness of those closest to you. as you remember the promises you've vowed, each recipient appears in front of you in bluebell-likeness.
"then you understand you cannot do it alone," she echoes his sentiments in more laymen terms. and a smile paints her lips; dazzling like Rachel's had always been for you.
"how would you react if i told you even with the bonds that tie you and them together-" she waves her hand over the flowers again. who do you see?
"you'll fail?"
The boys--oh, the boys--appear. Greyson; Voithos' youngest, brimming with possibility and light, appears before him. Dane; Aspida's stubborn and tender, one he's taken under his wing much like a father-son dynamic, appears beside Greyson. Another Aspidan joins the fray, one whose bright smiles ease him and company, too, in a way only brothers supply. Keaton stands beside Dane, smiling much like he usually does. Then his lover, the aloof and since self-condemned to independence but transitioning to reliance, follows suit. Bluebells they may resemble, his family they resemble more.
Julian swallows at the sight, "Mi familia," he whispers. Her smile is charming and her understanding is sound. Dane, Greyson, Keaton, and Vincent, amongst plenty more, are his family. He rips his gaze from the group to watch her words and how she delivers them.
Fail?
He doesn't like to fail, but it's always a risk.
"I can't do it alone, no," he starts. Julian's eyes gain a humble glint, even a little hurt in the prospect of failure. He straightens himself, standing back up to meet her gaze. The basket remains in the crook of his arms but eyes are resolute in spite of their hurt weight, "If we fail, we'll learn from it. There's always a risk that the odds won't work in our favors. I'm willing to fight it, however. We all are."
she nods along with his words, eyes fluttering shut for but a moment. they open to rest on yours once more. her fingers clench and the bluebells shaped like your family start to crumble. fade away, drift off on the breeze you once thought was comforting.
"they're being taken from you, julian," she explains, stepping back. "what do you do?"
dane's petals flit off to the west, greyson to the north, keaton to the east, and vincent's petals rush behind you.
"who would you chose when all are facing peril?"
His smile falters. It drops. Julian looks around to the petals as they start to crumble and drift away. His heart runs cold and skin shudders from the likeness. They're passing, they're passing. He's failing them, by letting them all go. But he won't work like this; no. Julian knows better than that.
Dane's been with him since the beginning. He's let the doctor into his life, let him care and hug and be there for him. He's let Julian heal when needed or laugh when their alone. Dane's let him crumble and rebuild in the Aspidan's presence. He's his son in all but genetics and name; if it means Dane'd live, he'd sacrifice himself.
Greyson's a boy whose meant for medicine yet family life deemed otherwise. He's a positive and young one Julian's guided and tried to protect. He's kept his eye on the boy with the manticore and consoled with the inevitable loss. Greyson's too young to die; he has far more potential in his future than he.
Keaton's his younger brother in all but name and genes, too. The boy's been a positive figure in his life, one that's helped Julian expand to defend just as much as he supports, but likewise loosen up for time to bring family back into the light. Keaton's a growing cook because of him; the man's too kind, too strong, to go down in such a way.
Vincent's been with him in the beginning, too, but for a different reason. Paired together for Nomiki, investigated the manticore's den of deceased, they've braved many things and consoled in others. Julian's taken the man in as the lover he's grown to become. Vincent's his and he's Vincent's. If he betrayed the man's trust, what would that make him?
The whicker basket comes in hand. He slides it down to his hand and grips the handle with a strong, determined grip. With it, he arks it through the air to collect the first three's petals and then his other hand reaches behind for Vincent's. He'll try for them all.
"All of them; I will choose them all at the expense of myself."
the gentle breeze is slow. it's cool, and the petals lazily drift across the air. you spin around, scooping them all up in your basket, where they dance together happily. they start to shrink away from you, always out of reach, but where you can still see them happily spending time together.
rachel steps up to you, a hand on your shoulder, and a soft, kind, empathetic smile sits on her lips.
"this path could be painful," she explains, "but you already know that. this path could be lonely, but you already know that. you've chosen them over yourself, which is the mark of a true martyr."
she holds out a hand, where a ball of light floats. it's emitting a warmth, a love you realize, a medicinal magic you're familiar with - "i'll help you. you've convinced me your heart is pure, so i can inhabit it. we will protect them.
together."
she presses the ball of light into your chest, where the heat radiated before. and you awake, suddenly, with a gasp. you expected to wake in a cold sweat, but there's a heat that's comforting enveloping you. and maybe a little sparkle on your cheeks.
“I don’t know if I’m feeling the same way you are, Julian. That word… I want to be able to say it and know that I mean it, that I’m not just… using it.” A breath, before shifting his head in, a slow nudge against the column of his neck. “But I want to try and figure that out with you. If that’s… If you think you can wait for me to figure out this whole caring about somebody thing.”
“I can wait. I can be here, for you.”
“Will we be in this together, Vincent? A relationship?”
“So that’s what this is called? Wasn’t sure they had a word for it.” He had to poke fun, even as he shifted a little, until he could lift his head enough to steal a kiss. “Yeah. We’re in this together.” A beat, waiting against the other’s lips, before drawing a little further back. “Not such great timing, considering we’re going in to the underworld and all, but… I’ll keep you safe.”
He should have expected it, to end. Their relationship hadn’t last long but he felt it lasted since their first fight with Nomiki. The manitcore and chimera cubs, the bonding beyond wraiths and banshees, then their time in hell on cocytus, hellhound ambush, and Gideon’s last passing. If he said he was fine, it was a lie.
“Just know my time with you has been the best I have had in a long time. Please, take care of yourself, Vince. I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but...take these.” He handed off a chamomile lotion and a homemade necklace: the tip of a manticore stinger, their first quest together. Julian’s hands trembled in the act, but he didn’t expect the receiving gift: Vincent’s bow. It had his initials etched into the side, the string still shined in the morning light, too.
Julian’s heart fluttered in his chest while his breaths tried to steady themselves. They had a good run, he thought. More impactful than ever, but didn’t near-death experiences do that to a man? “You mean a lot to me, you’re the light of my life. There’s a reason I stuck around for so long.” That reason was home; home was a person, after all. Julian had been Vincent’s. A home nearly lost didn’t feel so stable however. It felt temporary and ever-changing, as if it’d burst into flames one second or explode the next.
Vincent wanted stable; the demigod life didn’t provide such luxuries. Julian gave him a parting hug and squeeze, then kissed his brow. He had slipped his phone number and full name into the other’s pocket, “I love you, Vincent. I always will. I...I’ll miss you.” Have a good life, Vincent Sullivan. Just as silent as he arrived in Norway, he left in the same fashion. Only Julian heard the demigod’s soft breaths and stood at the lake of Lost Souls, feeling like the very name. Lost, broken down.
Maybe he wasn’t meant for a happy ending. Maybe he was meant to help others to one instead.
the pali house is something else entirely. the large chimera statue out front, with each of its heads a different direction as if watching from all sides, is menacing. maybe that’s the point—they’re a house of fighters, of strength encompassed in physical prowess. he walks along the halls for a bit, then up the stairs toward the bedrooms. he still hasn’t met everyone, especially fellow housemates, considering a literal casino dropped in their backyard.
he stops at the first open door he sees and knocks against the threshold, peering inside. “hey, uh, thought i’d introduce myself since all that craziness is gone and we can think without, you know, being drunk.”
It was an anxious feeling, just sitting around, waiting for the chosen few to come back after their mysterious fight with Cerberus. Asher was honestly not used to feeling this helpless by now. Typically when he cared about a situation, about people, about an outcome, he would take matters into his own hands. So the fact that all he could do was sit around and wait for Yves and Dexter to come back put him on edge. Would they make it out alive?
Oddly enough, he found himself on the stoop of the abandoned house he knew Vince and Julian had taken. Honestly, at that point he didn’t care which one came out, both of them had seen him at his best and probably at the worst he was willing to show. He needed some one to bounce his thoughts off of, and this house seemed the safest place for him at least. As the front door behind him opened, he cast a glance past his shoulder and offered wry grin. “It took you long enough. As neighbors go, this household has a lot to work on,” he teased, flashing a playful wink. “You good, Vince?”
@thanatosullivan asked: First things first, he needed to cover his bases. Coin purse in hand, he made his way toward the forge again. "Hey, Ash." It was an easy greeting, offered with a smile and a nod. "Looking to make a couple of purchases. A battleaxe and a warhammer." A beat. "Oh, don't suppose you could give me a bit more information on what these could be used for?" Tugging one of the manticore stingers from his bag, he offered it blunt end first toward the other. "And of course, a tip." 150 GD, to be precise.
the purchase was the first thing that she was focused on. knowing that the demigods were going to leave soon, she had to keep the line moving in the forge. otherwise it was going to become crowded and that was never a good thing. there was too much heat going around to gather in her establishment.
after ash and vincent traded the first round of gold and weapons, she carefully took the stingers with her gloved hands. “depends on what you’re looking for. a couple of more resources here and i could probably make some daggers out of these.” she turned them around slowly, nodding more to herself than to him.
finally, she handed the manticore stinger back to vince and smiled softly. “if you’re looking for something more magically, i’d go to one of the witches. agathys can probably go more into depth about that.”
